


Good Will Towards Men

by lastontheboat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Partners, Banter, Christmas Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hints of Ginny/Pansy, M/M, Past Ginny/Harry - Freeform, Pining, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, and christmas at the burrow, gratuitous descriptions of paperwork, significant and meaningful sharing of food, there's a church service
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28363977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastontheboat/pseuds/lastontheboat
Summary: Harry slowly falling for his partner? Approved.Stuck in a small room together over Christmas filling out paperwork? Approved.Having an honest conversation about his feelings? Request denied.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 21
Kudos: 122
Collections: H/D Mistletoe Exchange 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crapfaerie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crapfaerie/gifts).



> Faye, it's not quite a casefic but I hope my machinations to force Harry and Draco together over Christmas bring you as much joy as I had coming up with them!
> 
> Many thanks to my beta M for helping smooth out this piece's rough edges and J for helping the original plot idea coalesce.

“Gentlemen,” Robards said, sticking his head around the ajar door. “Everything on track for a clean holiday break this year?” 

Harry startled guiltily out of his chair. “Of course, sir!” he said. “Just wrapping up this last case as we speak.” 

Robards looked meaningfully at the chaos that reigned on Harry’s desk. “Didn’t you have some kind of New Year’s resolution about reaching inbox zero this year?” 

Harry chuckled nervously. “I’m trying a new strategy,” he said. “Embrace the chaos. Don’t worry though; none of this is important. Draco ensures the chaos is prioritized appropriately.” 

Robards harrumphed, but he was clearly too taken by the holiday spirit to press the matter. “If you say so,” he said. “I don’t want any overtime this year. No repeats of last year’s budget disasters or Kingsley will have my head.” 

“I learned my lesson last year!” Harry replied, leaning back in his chair once more and carefully putting his feet on the desk around the mounds of parchments. “Draco just went down to the archives to file our final summary for the forgery case. Everything else can wait until the new year, I promise.” 

“Now that’s what I like to hear!” Robards said. “Good work, Potter. I’m off to put the fear of God into the rest of the team. No overtime this year, or I’ll have their thumbs!” His head disappeared from the doorway, and Harry listened to the receding sound of Robards’ forceful steps. 

He was actually at loose ends for the first time in… a while. December 22nd and there were no fires that needed to be put out. Harry knocked on his wooden desk so as not to jinx it, but he was really looking forward to an uninterrupted winter break. He wouldn’t have believed it possible back in the summer when he and Draco were assigned one urgent case after another with very few leads and Ministry officials breathing down their necks. Still, it seemed as though the criminal element of the wizarding world were finally taking some time off. Spurred on by the elusive prospect of a holiday spent outside of the office, Harry had forced himself to stay on task with his paperwork so he could catch up and finish the year with a clean slate. 

Harry smiled, recalling Draco’s reaction to his sudden determination to finish his paperwork. At first his partner had been full of sarcastic praise; this had turned into puzzled but cautious pleasure; finally, he had turned suspicious. 

“What is this, Potter?” he had asked when Harry had closed two of their cases on the same day. “What has happened to you? If you’re not actually Potter then full marks for the disguise but I have to deduct significant points for your unrealistic behaviour.” 

“I’ve just got a good feeling,” Harry had said, refusing to be drawn into an argument. “We’re on a streak. If this continues, we can wrap everything up and have a nice, relaxed Christmas for once.” 

“Hmph,” was all Draco had said, turning back to his paperwork, and Harry couldn't help but smile. Draco and Robards had a lot in common sometimes - they both acted like acknowledging a good thing might cause it to fall apart. 

It was 4 pm on the 22nd of December, and Harry was, against all odds, almost feeling bored. He amused himself by leaning back in his chair as far as it would go, seeing how long he could remain balanced on a single leg, making minute adjustments with his feet that were still propped on his desk. Yes, he supposed he could still make headway on the papers scattered around his feet, half piled, half free-range, but he had told Robards the truth: everything remaining _could_ wait until the new year. Draco was very careful about keeping anything urgent off of Harry’s desk, so by process of elimination anything on Harry’s desk could not be urgent. It turned out to be a very effective system. 

The sound of the office door banging open caught Harry by surprise and the chair immediately overbalanced and sent him plummeting to the floor. Draco stalked by without even offering him a hand up, making his way over to his own desk on the other side of their shared space. 

“Oi,” Harry said petulantly as he pulled himself into a sitting position. “What’s got into you?” 

Draco didn’t even turn to look at him, which was unusual. He was systematically pulling out drawers in his desk and searching through them, carefully shuffling through case files, looking at the headers, then discarding them. 

Curious despite himself, Harry stood up and walked over to Draco so he could lean over the other man’s shoulder. “Do you mind?” Draco growled. 

“What’s missing?” Harry asked. He reached out and fiddled with a file on the edge of Draco’s desk, and after a few seconds Draco just sighed and pushed it out of his reach before returning to his search. “Seriously, you’re more anal retentive than usual right now. What’s wrong?” 

Draco took a deep breath, and it appeared to steady him somewhat. “Do you remember that Diagon Alley thief from the summer?” 

“Let me see… that thief who kept taking tiny, cheap things from the Diagon Alley shops, right?” 

“Exactly. His trial’s happening in the new year.” 

“Ok. And you’re looking for the paperwork several weeks ahead of time because you’re bored?” 

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. “Potter, where would you expect to find the paperwork for that case?” 

Harry abandoned Draco’s desk and righted his spinning chair from its spot on the ground. “Dunno. The archives, I guess?” 

“Being the keen Auror that you are, and knowing that I just came from the archives, you now see me looking through the contents of my desk. What might you infer about the location of the paperwork for the case?” Draco was speaking in very precise tones as he continued to shift papers around his desk. 

Harry sat back down in the chair and gave it a test spin. “It’s not there?” he hazarded. 

“Correct!” Draco announced furiously. “There is no sign of the paperwork for the case that goes to trial first thing in the new year. And despite my best efforts, I have no recollection of what we did with it!” 

“I honestly barely even remember the case,” Harry added helpfully. “Who did we catch in the end?” 

Draco threw his hands up in the air. “I don’t know!” he hissed. “And I am extremely concerned that we’re supposedly prosecuting someone for this crime for which we apparently have no records!” 

“Ok, you really need to calm down,” Harry said. “Talk it through with me.” 

Draco huffed and threw himself back into his own chair. “Ok, so we were investigating it back in...July, right?” 

“June, I think,” Harry said, spinning slowly in his chair and looking at the ceiling. “It was in the middle of that string of underground brewery busts.” 

“Right, the Diagon Business Improvement Association came to us. They said there had been a string of thefts for the past few months.” 

“We had just busted that one brewer who was making the subpar Polyjuice, and Robards told us to handle it. He said the BIA was making a stink at the Ministry about how they were being fobbed off.” 

“Oh, yes,” Draco grumbled. “I remember that.” 

“‘The economic impact alone!’” Harry said, imitating the nasal tones of the president of the Diagon BIA. “‘The streets aren’t safe to travel any more! We’re losing the goodwill of the public!’” 

Draco groaned. “Now it’s all coming back to me,” he said, putting a hand over his eyes. “We just ended up warding every cheap and small item in the stores that hadn’t been hit yet.” 

“And then convinced Robards to assign the trainees to rotate through as round-the-clock observers, yeah,” Harry said. They’d spent days poring over the list of prior thefts, looking for any kind of theme or modus operandi to predict what might be hit next. Eventually, Harry had suggested they resort to brute force, and Draco had reluctantly agreed. They were only able to sell it to Robards as a training exercise, who had initially baulked at the cost of maintaining constant vigilance on the shops at Diagon Alley. 

“They definitely caught someone,” Draco said thoughtfully. “It only took a few days in the end.” 

“But then there was _another_ underground brewer we had to track down,” Harry said. “And Robards was like, ‘This is your top priority!’” 

“Yes, I remember that one,” Draco murmured. “You lost your eyebrows in that raid.” 

Harry laughed. “In any case, that theft one was wrapped up, wasn’t it?” 

“We must have,” Draco agreed, but he didn’t sound convinced. 

“Robards told us to track down that new brewer,” Harry said slowly. “He said it was vital; he needed our skills in the field, not filling out forms.” 

“It was the clean up that was taking a while,” Draco murmured, and it didn’t sound like he was paying much attention to Harry any more. “Lots of witness testimony and memories to sift through in Pensieves. Evidence to compile. There were… lots of little items stolen, right?” 

“Lord Fauntleroy!” Harry suddenly exclaimed. 

Draco turned to stare at him. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me.” 

“The intern! Robards got us one of the summer interns from the evidence department, and you wouldn’t stop making fun of him behind his back. You called him Little Lord Fauntleroy, which, honestly, coming from you is really quite something.” 

“Oh, that’s right,” Draco said. “He had the most elegant quillmanship, and he wrote so slowly as a result.” 

“There was so much paper by the end,” Harry said, frowning. “He spent days compiling it all. I remember he worked right up until the end of his internship while we focused on tracking down the brewer.” 

“And I said to leave it on the desk when he was finished so we could review it,” Draco said slowly. He glanced at the mostly empty surface of his desk, radiating uncertainty. “Where did all the paperwork go?” 

A horrifying thought occurred to Harry, and he couldn’t stop himself from glancing quickly towards his own desk. Draco noticed, and a thundercloud passed over his partner’s face. 

“Potter,” Draco said, very calmly. “Is our missing paperwork sitting right in front of you?” 

“It’s… probably not all from that one case,” Harry said desperately. 

“That’s worse!” Draco erupted. “That means we have to sift through months of accumulated detritus in order to find it!” 

“It’ll be fine,” Harry said. “If you just take that half of the piles, I’ll take this side, and we’ll find it in no time.” 

“The only reason I’m going along with this idea is that the thought of watching you search through this disaster on your own sounds even worse,” Draco muttered as he came over to join Harry. “That pile’s on my side. Get your own.” 

~~~

In the end, Draco finished going through his side of Harry’s desk first and had to watch anyway. In Lord Fauntleroy’s defence, the paperwork was more or less together, despite the mess it existed within. Harry let out a shout of triumph as he discovered a witness information sheet; skimming the page, it looked like it contained a transcription of one of the Diagon shopkeepers’ statements about the early thefts. He handed the page to Draco and pulled the rest of the parchment stack closer to him so he could flip through its contents more easily. 

“It looks like it’s all here,” he said as he glanced cursorily at each page. “There are victim interviews, summaries of key Pensieve records, the list of trainees involved in the surveillance, the list of all items stolen and later recovered successfully. Oof, that one goes on for several pages.” 

“Potter,” Draco said, sounding uncertain. “Show me another one.” 

Harry glanced over at his partner, who had a furrowed brow and was reading the first paper closely. He grabbed one of the Pensieve summaries and passed it to Draco, who took it without a word and subjected it to the same close scrutiny. 

“What is this?” he hissed. “Is this some kind of code? Who writes reports in code?” 

“What?” Harry asked. “Let me see.” 

“You have a whole stack in front of you,” Draco snapped. 

Harry shrugged and took a closer look at the top parchment. It was another of the victim statements, this time from one “Ms Cecily Porter, proprietor”, and while the lettering was masterfully done, it appeared otherwise unsurprising. 

“I’m not seeing it,” Harry said. “Did he really do calligraphy for all of the paperwork, though?” 

“Look past the brush strokes, Potter,” Draco said scathingly. “Focus on the words themselves.” 

Harry rolled his eyes and started to read. After a few moments of struggle, he looked up and met Draco’s eyes. 

“Is this… English?” he asked, worried. “I’ve never seen a report like this before.” 

Draco gingerly laid his pages down on Harry’s desk. “I think it may be a shorthand? I expect the Evidence people use it in their materials, but it wouldn’t usually leave their department.” He stared down at the stacks of paper, tapping one long finger against his pale lips. “There is no way we can submit any of this material for consideration in the trial,” he finally said. 

“So we just… give up?” Harry asked, aghast. “Let the criminal walk free?” 

Draco turned a scathing look on Harry. “Merlin, no,” he said. “We just have to redo it properly this time.” 

Harry baulked. “What? But that will take ages.” 

“I don’t have any plans for the next few days. Do you?” Draco asked. 

“I mean…” Harry looked at Draco dubiously. “Yeah, it’s almost Christmas?” 

“You can engage in whatever frivolous activities you wish,” Draco said haughtily. “I intend to pursue the course of justice.” 

Harry was about to continue the argument when Robards poked his head around the door once more. “Ah, Draco, there you are. Just wanted to wish you both a Happy Christmas before I take off.” He paused as he took in the state of Harry’s desk, and seemed to notice the strained air that weighed heavy between the two Aurors. “Is everything alright?” 

Harry and Draco looked at each other and silently came to the shared conclusion that their boss did not need to know anything about the current dilemma. 

“Oh, er, no, sir,” Harry said. “That is, everything’s fine, sir.” 

“We were just discussing our plans for the Christmas season,” Draco said, giving Harry a frosty smile. “Comparing how we would spend the time.” 

“That’s what I like to hear!” Robards said jovially. “It’s important to get away. Clears the mind, freshens the wits. Well, don’t let me keep you two!” He strode away, humming cheerfully to himself. 

Harry and Draco continued to stare at each other for another moment. Harry broke first. 

“Fine,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll tell the Weasleys not to wait for me this year.” 

~~~

It was worse than Harry feared. After the first morning of staring at beautiful but inscrutable words on parchment, Draco had tried to find someone from Evidence to help them decipher the contents of the paperwork. Unfortunately, the department two floors below theirs appeared to be a ghost town; all the employees had cleaned out their inboxes and taken off for early holidays. 

“It’s only the 23rd!” Draco cried at the unfortunate soul who had apparently drawn the short straw for keeping the lights on during the holidays. 

The soul in question, a short but unflappable woman with greying hair who was sitting at her desk doing a crossword, barely even glanced up at Draco’s outburst. 

“That’s just how it is,” she said. “Not much call for evidence right about now.” 

“But if there _were_ suddenly an evidence emergency of some kind,” Draco persisted. “What would happen?” 

The woman sucked on her quill thoughtfully. “Well, now. An evidence emergency, you say? Don’t get too many of those around here.” 

Harry knew Draco’s moods well by now, and he could practically see the other man biting his tongue. “Hypothetically,” Draco said, far too calmly. “Use your imagination. Say there was a desperate need for someone with a lot of experience with this department and they’re not here. What then?” 

“Guess whoever needed them would be out of luck,” the woman said. “Anything I can help you with?” 

“Do you have any experience reading the shorthand used in reports by this department?” 

“I just transferred to Evidence last month,” she said, “And they told me to keep an eye on the archives to make sure that no keen-eyed Aurors come in and mess up the filing system.” She eyed them shrewdly. “So no, I wouldn’t say so.” 

Draco threw up his hands. “Wonderful!” he said. “I guess it’s time to pull out my Ancient Runes textbook and see if it can provide any help here.” 

“There’s no need to take that tone with me, young man,” the woman said, returning to her crossword. “Somebody hasn’t found his holiday cheer yet.” 

“Well, we won’t keep you any longer,” Harry said quickly, and he dragged Draco out of the room before he could make matters worse. 

~~~

Several unproductive hours later, Harry and Draco sat slumped in their respective chairs, staring at the large pile of largely unreadable paperwork. 

“This is the worst,” Harry sighed. “What if we owled Robards to ask him to recall someone who could help us for half a day or something?” 

“The same Robards who kept insisting that there was no room in the budget for any overtime?” Draco asked drily. “Yes, I’m sure he’ll be very responsive to that request.” 

“What we need is a decoding spell,” Harry said morosely. “What good is magic, anyways, if it can’t even do what we need?” 

“Oh!” Draco said. “Of course!” 

“What?” Harry asked, startled. “Is there a spell that does that?” 

“Don’t be daft,” Draco said sharply. “But think of this: even if we don’t work with the Evidence people directly very often, we still have our own records of cases where evidence was filed for them. If we find the records for those cases, we can match them against the records stored in the Evidence department and compare them. That should allow us to build up a list of shorthands that they use, and then we can use that to decode Lord Fauntleroy’s paperwork!” 

“That could work,” Harry said after thinking about it for a moment. “But I should probably be the person to go and convince Evidence to let us look at their records. You may have already burned that bridge.” 

Draco sniffed. “I may have been… overzealous, earlier,” he allowed, busying himself with unnecessarily straightening the piles of paper on his desk. “I hope my criticisms of bureaucracy do not needlessly complicate our work.” 

Harry smiled to himself. It was a classic Draco non-apology - acknowledging his involvement in whatever transpired, and a vague sentiment of regret that still cast him as the party on the correct side of the issue. Harry used to find them frustrating when they had started working closely together, but as he had grown more accustomed to Draco’s personality, he had begun to appreciate them almost as an art form. 

It wasn’t that Draco couldn’t, or even wouldn’t, apologize. Early on in training, he had come to Harry and issued an uncomfortably thorough and blunt apology for his many transgressions during their time at school and the war. Draco had been weirdly formal about the whole thing, and he’d almost seemed annoyed when Harry had accepted the apology at face value rather than hashing out each time he’d hurt Harry. 

Harry had also heard from his friends about personal letters that Draco had sent to them, which contained similar sentiments. Mostly these were received with wariness and some bafflement, but as time went on people in Harry’s life seemed to accept that Draco’s name would occasionally come up in conversations and it was no longer an object of scorn. 

Draco had demonstrated that he could apologize when he knew he was in the wrong. But he was proud, and prickly to boot, and Harry now found himself smiling when he recognised the signs that Draco felt aggrieved but realised that others might not share his view. He had discovered recently that he was actually _fond_ of his cantankerous partner, and wasn’t that a horrifying thought? His school-aged self would have looked on in betrayal; Harry found himself going out of his way to bring Draco tea throughout the day, just to hear him say things like “Potter, you marvel, this is perfectly steeped,” while giving him that small tight smile that made Harry’s insides bloom with warmth. 

Harry realised that he was just sitting there, smiling like a fool as he watched Draco straighten piles of paper. “You know me,” he said, looking away quickly before Draco noticed. “I always support a good criticism of bureaucracy. How about I go promise our friend in Evidence not to mess up their filing system, and you can figure out which records we need to pull?” 

“Yes, yes, go ahead, Potter,” Draco said drily. “Put your wholesome boy hero status to good use for once. I’ll remain here in the document mines.” 

Harry flipped Draco off out of habit as he got up from his desk. It felt good to have a plan again. 

~~~

By the time it was half-past noon, Harry’s head was a dull ache from looking at old reports. He pushed back from his desk with a sigh, allowing his chair to spin him round in a lazy rotation. 

“This is really slow going,” he said morosely. “What do you think? Lunch break?” 

Without looking up from his own parchment, Draco held up a half sandwich that already had a few bites from it. Harry huffed. 

“Fine,” he said, getting up. “I’m going to the canteen.” 

“It’s not open,” Draco said, still engrossed in his work. 

Harry paused on his way out the door. “Oh, bollocks,” he said. “Are you sure?” 

“The rest of the ministry is closed down,” Draco reminded him. “We already established this when we talked to that harpy down in Evidence.” 

“Guess I’m getting takeaway, in that case,” Harry said. “Would you like anything?” 

Draco gave him a look and waved his half sandwich again. 

“I was just checking,” Harry said, amused. “See you in a bit.” 

~~~

Harry eventually returned with Thai food from the new restaurant a couple streets over that Draco had mentioned enjoying. As he took his coat off, he could see the moment when Draco was drawn out of his focused state by the smell of Harry’s lunch. 

“What did you get?” Draco demanded, looking interested despite himself. 

“I went to that new Thai place you talked up last week,” Harry responded as he sat down. “I decided to try the green curry.” 

“Really, Potter?” Draco asked. “Everyone knows you evaluate a Thai restaurant by its Pad Thai the first time you eat there.” 

Harry shrugged. “Today didn’t feel like a Pad Thai day,” he said, opening up the container and letting the smells waft around him. “It’s fun to explore the menu.” 

“But if you don’t try the same dish from all the different restaurants, how will you know which one is your favourite?” Draco persisted. 

Harry laughed. “I’m not a food critic,” he said. “I don’t need an objective, logical rating system for when I get hungry. I just like a bit of variety.” 

“Yes, well, nobody would ever have mistaken you for logical,” Draco said huffily. 

“Do you want some?” Harry asked. 

“What?” Draco said, taken aback. He glanced at his lunch. “The flavour profile of a green curry is completely different from an egg salad sandwich.” 

“Yeah, but do you want some?” Harry persisted, smiling. It was always fun to make Draco flustered about small, ordinary things. “I’ll trade you for the other half of your sandwich. You can even have a spring roll if you need a palette cleanser.” 

Draco looked at Harry dubiously. “If you had ever cleansed your palette in your life, you would know how ridiculous that sounds,” he said. He kept looking at Harry’s curry, though, and Harry would swear he could see the debate raging inside his head. “Fine,” he said abruptly. “Half my sandwich for some curry. And I’ll take the spring roll, too, since you offered.” 

“Great.” Harry smiled. “This way we both win.” 

“I reserve my judgement until afterwards,” Draco said pompously, and Harry couldn’t help but chuckle. 

~~~

By the late afternoon, they had accumulated the records they needed from prior cases, and it was largely silent between them unless one of them uncovered a new candidate translation for an unknown piece of shorthand. The whole thing was starting to grate on Harry’s nerves. 

"Are you sure about this one, Potter?” Draco asked, breaking the silence for the first time in a while. “BNG for “buying”? I’m looking at a document that is ostensibly an arrest report, and I don’t think that really fits.” 

Harry scrubbed a hand across his face. “It made sense at the time,” he said. “I’ll put a question mark next to it, I guess, unless you have a better idea.” 

Draco hummed before falling silent once again, while Harry picked up the original report and stared at the word in question. If it didn’t stand for ‘buying,’ then what could it be instead? Not ‘being.’ 

“Oh!” Harry said as it suddenly came to him. “Beginning!” 

“Aha,” Draco said, sounding viciously pleased. “Yes, that would fit quite nicely. Excellent deduction, Potter.” 

Harry felt himself flush at the praise, and he buried his head back in the paperwork. This forced closeness as they spent hour after hour together was a change from their usual routine, where they would usually work on cases together but split up responsibilities, and they would be in and out of the office at different times as a result. Whether it was the proximity, or the pressure to wrap up this case as soon as possible, he was finding it more and more difficult to hide how Draco made him feel. 

He kept worrying that he would say something embarrassing without thinking — perhaps how distracting he found Draco’s fingers as he stroked them along the edge of his desk while deep in thought, or how he longed to run his fingers through Draco’s long hair when the other man would let it out of his bun before remaking it. It was all a lot to handle, and the mundanity of the work never served to distract him for very long. 

“Well,” Draco announced, jolting Harry from his thoughts. “I think we’ve decoded enough of the shorthand by now that we should be able to make decent progress on rewriting the paperwork.” Draco was noiselessly tapping his fingers against his desk while he looked at their shared decoding chart, and Harry was mesmerised by the motion. 

“Potter?” Draco asked, and Harry looked up to find that Draco was looking at him funnily. “Should we end a bit early today and get a start on that first thing tomorrow?” 

“Er,” Harry said. “Sure. Yeah, I’m having a bit of trouble concentrating right now.” 

“Very well,” Draco said, closing his eyes and stretching in a way that caused an indecent amount of neck to be exposed. Harry looked away. “Good work today.” 

“Thanks,” Harry said, feeling inexplicably depressed. “You too.” 


	2. Chapter 2

When Harry reached the office at 8:15 am on December 24th, Draco was already sitting at his desk looking productive and alert. 

“Good morning,” he said. It didn’t even come out harshly, but Harry still suspected that he was being judged for his tardiness. 

“Is it though?” Harry grumbled. He didn’t feel quite awake yet. He hung his coat on the coatrack by the door and stared at his desk, not yet prepared to give in and get down to work. 

“I don’t get it,” Harry said instead. “Why were you so carefree about working through the holiday? Didn’t you have any plans?” 

“Does it matter?” Draco asked. He made a notation on the parchment he was working on, dotting a letter with a completely unnecessary flourish that lifted Harry’s mood a little. He lived for the small details these days, cooped up in this space with Draco hour after hour. He was rapidly becoming attuned to all of Draco’s moods and idiosyncrasies. 

“You know what I do for Christmas,” Harry said, rather than dwelling on that thought. “Why is this such a secret?” 

“It’s not a secret,” Draco said. “I just don’t feel inclined to share.” 

“I’m going to start guessing,” Harry threatened. “I can read your face and figure out if I’m right. I have all the latest interrogation methods at my disposal.” 

Draco made another notation on his paper without replying. 

“You have posh drinks with your Slytherin friends,” Harry tried. He walked over to his chair and sat down in it, to at least provide the illusion that he was about to start his paperwork at any moment. “You all meet up in a place with real silver and eat tiny portions of deconstructed Christmas dinner.” 

Draco raised an eyebrow but kept silent. 

“You put on a rowdy Christmas panto for the children in St. Mungo’s.” 

“Those children will be so disappointed this year,” Draco said drily. “What a monster I am for depriving them of this experience.” 

“You go for a swim in the Channel as the moon rises,” Harry said, getting into his little game now. He leaned back in his chair, carefully placing his feet on his desk without touching any of the assorted paper chaos that covered it. “Then you perform ancient druidic rites on the beach in the nude by the light of the moon.” 

Draco pulled a face. “Honestly, that’s the closest you’ve come so far,” he said. 

Harry tipped forward in his chair out of surprise. “Wait, what? Do you actually perform ancient Druidic rites for Christmas? Is this another one of those pureblood things?” 

Draco dropped his head down on his desk, seemingly giving up on the parchment for the time being. “No, Potter,” he said, wearily. “I do not perform rites in the nude. I also do not swim in the Channel. The plans that I do have, however, happen to take place at night.” 

Harry regarded his partner, worrying his lower lip. “So you don’t get together with your mother or anything? Not even for a meal?” 

Draco eyed Harry, seemingly weighing something. “My mother lives in the Italian countryside,” he eventually said. “ When I visited her three years ago, it was like… it was like she had recreated the life she had here, as closely as possible. Without my father, for obvious reasons, but still. I have no interest in being part of that, not after everything.” 

Harry sat back, stunned. He wasn’t sure what kind of answer he had been expecting, but it wasn’t that. “Huh,” he finally said. 

A slight frown appeared on Draco’s face. “Typical eloquence from you,” he said, sitting up straighter and grabbing a new piece of parchment. “Well, are we finished prying into my personal affairs? Can we return to our endless stacks of paper yet?” 

“Sorry, I was just surprised is all,” Harry said hastily. “I just… I was thinking about whether I would be able to ignore my family like that.” He paused. “It must have been hard for you.” 

“It didn’t take you very long to make new Christmas plans with me this year, rather than the Weasley brood,” Draco pointed out smugly. 

“You told me to!” 

“And you always do what I tell you to?” Draco asked, smirking. “How very interesting.” 

Harry felt his face flush. “That’s not what I meant,” he mumbled. “But if you _must_ know, Ginny’s new girlfriend is coming to Christmas, and it just feels… I don’t know. Seems like it might be awkward.” 

“You? Awkward?” Draco asked. “Perish the thought.” 

“Git,” Harry muttered, but he found himself smiling. He chucked a ball of paper at Draco just for the spirit of the thing. 

“This is the same Ginevra that broke things off with you.. a week before Valentine’s Day?” Draco asked. “And you’re worried it would be awkward at Christmas?” 

“Ok, first of all, we _mutually_ agreed we should split up,” Harry argued. “Second, we just… haven’t really seen each other much since then. She’s busy with Quidditch; I’m busy with all this. So yeah, I think it could be awkward.” 

“Ah well,” Draco mused. “You get to hide from your former beau and receive the pleasure of my company at the same time. A true Christmas miracle!” 

“It is nice, you know,” Harry said, before immediately feeling embarrassed. 

“What is?” 

“Usually I’m alone around this time. Everyone else is busy with their families. I kind of like having the company, even if the circumstances are total rubbish.” 

“Well, I don’t dislike it either,” Draco said, his cheeks reddening slightly. He busied himself looking down and arranging his papers. “Back to work!” he said abruptly. “The idle brain is the devil’s playground and all that.” He refocused on the parchment in front of him on the desk, but Harry could see a small smile appear as Draco resumed his notations. 

~~~

The day was a slog. Despite his unusual efforts to reach an empty inbox over the past few weeks, Harry was not actually used to spending hours at a time doing paperwork, let alone proofreading, translating, deciphering, and other activities that required sustained mental focus. Harry regularly found his attention wandering, or realised that he had reached the bottom of a page without paying any attention to it and had to start from the beginning again. 

It began as a game to annoy Draco. When Harry was feeling overwhelmed by the paperwork, he would take a small break and bide his time until Draco was deep in concentration. Then he would introduce some new magical Christmas decoration around them, as carefully and silently as he could. 

“Where in Merlin’s name did this come from?” Draco asked in irritation. He had reached over the side of his desk to drum his fingers on it, the way he did was he was trying to remember something, only to discover that it was draped in tinsel. 

“Hmmm?” Harry asked, pretending to be deep in thought over a list of Pensieve time codes. He was pretty sure he could see Draco’s eyes narrow, but nothing more was said about the matter. 

The next time, Harry conjured some fairy lights while Draco went to put the kettle on. They were both consuming an alarming amount of tea and were taking it in turns to obtain refills. Harry used the opportunity to stick the lights all over the wall behind Draco, and when his partner returned and deposited Harry’s mug before sitting back down, he appeared none the wiser. 

“What are you playing at, Potter?” Draco finally asked, sounding annoyed, after he pushed his chair back in order to stretch his legs only to discover a full-size Christmas tree blocking his path. 

Harry couldn’t keep himself from laughing. “Just trying to add some Christmas spirit around this dreary place!” he said. 

Draco frowned. “Yes, well, I notice that my side of our office is noticeably more spirited than your side,” he said. 

Harry looked around. It was a fair point; the area around Draco’s desk looked like a particularly manic house elf had been let loose on it. “Do you want to fix that?” Harry asked. 

“You seem to have it well in hand,” Draco sighed. “Just don’t make my work any harder, please?” 

Harry interpreted that as granting him a completely free hand. For the remainder of the afternoon, every time he finished rewriting a piece of trial evidence he rewarded himself by adding one new decoration on his side of the room. He spruced up his chair with colourful ribbons; he draped holly around his desk; he spent longer than he really should have conjuring an intricate wreath to hang on the back of their door. Meanwhile, the pile of completed papers next to him grew ever so slightly taller. Far too slowly for comfort, really. 

At some point, he found himself rubbing his eyes and squinting out the window. “Lord, how late is it?” he asked. A quick _tempus_ revealed that it had already gone quarter past six, and his stomach rumbled in protest. “I don’t know about you,” he said to Draco, as he leaned back in his chair, “but I could use some supper about now.” He took a breath, steeling himself. “Want to go to that Chinese place you like so much?” Harry was proud of how casually it came out. Just one work colleague inviting another work colleague to have dinner together after work. Nothing wrong with that; it was perfectly normal. It didn’t matter that the one work colleague had an appallingly obvious crush on the other one. It was fine. 

Draco looked up from whatever he was attempting to decipher. “Oh,” he said, sounding surprised. “Um. Maybe next time?” He paused for a moment as if searching for something else to say. “It’s almost time for me to begin those druidic rites, you know,” he finally said, a smirk appearing on his face. 

“Those rites that you definitely do not engage in?” Harry said, trying to mask his disappointment by playing along. 

“Exactly,” Draco said. “You understand me perfectly.” His grin widened as he indulged Harry in this private joke, and Harry felt a warmth growing inside of him. Draco’s smiles were his only weakness. Draco’s smiles and being praised by him. Well, his smiles, his praise, and maybe his playful insults, as weird as that was. Merlin, he was far gone. 

“Er,” Harry said, realizing that he was staring again. “Well. Next time, then. Don’t let me keep you!” As he turned back to his own paperwork, he saw Draco give him a little curious look and panicked slightly. He hoped he hadn’t overplayed his hand by inviting Draco out, but the fear that Draco suspected kept bouncing around his head as his partner put on his coat and left for the day. 

~~~

It wasn’t until Harry was getting ready to leave the office himself, fifteen minutes later, that he noticed Draco’s wand sitting on his desk behind a stack of parchment. He paused and looked at it, confused. As far as he knew, Draco took his wand with him everywhere. He didn’t wear a holster for it like Harry, but he did keep it in his robes, or at least in his trouser pocket when they were visiting non-magical areas and dressed inconspicuously. 

Harry couldn’t think of a reason that Draco would intentionally leave his wand behind at the office. Harry certainly kept his with him at all times; while his fourth year Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher may have turned out to be a disguised criminal, the mantra of “constant vigilance” had imprinted itself over the years that followed. Harry never wanted to be caught unprepared. It was hard to imagine Draco choosing to live differently, given everything he had been through as well. 

Harry pondered his options. Draco hadn’t told him where he was going tonight, but he had certainly implied earlier that he wouldn’t just be at home. Harry was pretty sure he knew where Draco lived; there had been a drinks night a few months earlier after a big bust, and when Draco had decided to leave that evening Harry had been chatting with him next to the Floo. Draco had grabbed some powder, then looked around before meeting Harry’s eyes for a moment, then tossed the powder into the fireplace and saying an address that Harry _assumed_ was his home. It had certainly felt like Draco was letting him in on a secret, and the memory thrilled him still. 

So Harry could potentially just go to Draco’s home and wait there for him to return. He risked looking like a loiterer, or worse, a stalker, and maybe Draco would find it weird? On the other hand, if Draco had actually forgotten his wand at the office, perhaps the pleasant surprise of having it returned would be enough to overcome the weirdness of Harry lurking outside his house. On the other _other_ hand, though, if Draco had not expected Harry to remember the address after the drinks night, Harry ran the risk of looking even creepier. 

Harry considered the dilemma for a moment and was suddenly struck by another option. All Aurors were taught a locator spell that keyed to their partners. It couldn’t be used to track anybody else; it was something about attuning magical cores that Harry forgot as soon as it was explained to him. Draco would probably remember the details because he was a swot like that. Of course, Harry _did_ remember that they were explicitly instructed not to use the spells except in cases of emergency. However, Draco forgetting his wand _could_ be considered an emergency. It would certainly give Harry the ability to deliver the wand to him quickly and not look like a creeper, just a helpful Auror looking out for his partner’s well-being. That was fine, wasn’t it? 

~~~

Harry arrived with a sharp _crack_ in a dark alleyway, feeling his stomach twist as the sensation of Apparition left him. Looking around as he exited the alleyway, he saw a mixture of darkened shops and houses, and further down the street the imposing facade of a church. The church’s doors were closed, but through the windows spilled warm, golden light and Harry could hear the strains of an organ from inside as well. 

Casting the partner locator spell once more, he felt a strong pull down the street in the direction of the church. “Huh,” Harry said, taken aback. He made his way slowly towards the church, checking the spell every so often, but there was no change. He tried continuing past it, but the locator bond abruptly changed directions as he began to move farther away from the building, tugging insistently to his rear. 

Just to confirm, he circled the church, first checking that he wasn’t being observed. He didn’t want to be reported for suspicious activity around a Muggle religious building. The locator spell was unquestionably pointing him towards the church, insistently tugging him towards the front doors. Harry wondered if he should just wait outside for the service to end, but the night was only getting colder, and his initial warming charm was already starting to fail. He nervously approached the heavy wooden doors and pulled one open just enough to see inside. 

As his eyes adjusted to the well-lit interior, they were drawn to a large colourful sign across from the doorway that declared: “Welcome to St. Michael’s! All are welcome (especially you)!” A grey-haired woman was standing nearby the door holding what looked like programs, and she quickly spotted him and ushered him inside with a smile. He reluctantly stepped into the building; it felt like it would be rude to refuse the invitation. 

“First time, dear?” the lady with the programs asked. 

“Er,” he said, stalling. “Yes. I just saw the lights and wondered…” 

“The service has already started, but there’s some room in the back for you,” she said, extracting one of the programs and holding it out towards him. “It’s just through there.” She motioned encouragingly with the program towards the doorway where most of the light was coming from. Harry could hear what sounded like a scripture recitation, and he reluctantly accepted the paper from the cheerful woman. “Happy Christmas!” she said. “Lovely to see a new young face around here.” 

“Thanks,” Harry replied nervously, wondering what he was getting himself into. He walked quietly towards the space where the service was taking place, feeling like he was intruding merely by being in the building. When he reached the doorway, he glanced inside - the main sanctuary was a high, arched room, and pews lined both sides of the long aisle. They were well packed with attendees, and at the end of each row there was a wreath and a lit candle, the flames dancing merrily in the warm air. 

Looking back towards the entrance to the church, Harry saw the greeter watching him, and she gave him a cheerful thumbs-up. Feeling foolish, Harry found a pew in the back that was largely empty and tried not to call attention to himself as he took a seat in it as quickly as possible. His immediate needs addressed, he finally allowed himself a moment to look around and take in the rest of the service. 

A woman in a priest’s robes, who looked to be somewhere in her forties, read the scripture aloud.. She stood behind a pulpit that was draped in a festive covering that read “Unto us a child is born”, and she had a soothing reading voice. Harry gazed around the rest of the sanctuary, not focusing too long on any one thing; he was no longer in a position to cast his locator spell unobserved, but he was dying to know if Malfoy was actually here, sitting in the congregation in a church service. It’s not that there was anything wrong with that, it’s just not a possibility that would ever have occurred to Harry. It wasn’t like he had any experience with churches, himself; the Dursleys were never into that sort of thing when he was younger, and he’d never understood why someone would choose to leave the house on a Sunday morning rather than have a lie-in. 

Harry finally picked out the back of Draco’s head two pews ahead of him, positioned at the far end next to the stone wall. His head was tilted back, and he appeared to be admiring the high vaulted ceilings of the church. Harry followed his gaze and finally allowed himself to take in his surroundings. The building itself was made of walls of beautiful stone blocks, with tall wooden pillars that soared upwards, and the sheer size of the space they were seated in meant that the priest’s words reverberated in a way that Harry found very solemn and impressive. For a moment he felt out of place again, an interloper, but he remembered the grey-haired greeter’s welcome. Clearly, at least one person thought he belonged here, even if he wasn’t sure of it himself. 

He allowed the reading to wash over him, listening to the rise and fall of the priest’s voice and the cadence of her sentences, content to simply exist for a few moments without other cares. He found himself wondering what Draco thought of all this, whether visiting this church was only a Christmas tradition for him, or if he regularly attended on Sundays as well. Given how tightly Draco hewed to structure and order in his work life, it didn’t seem particularly likely that Draco would just turn up to any old church for the religious equivalent of a one night stand. Then again, Harry no longer felt confident that he knew his partner as well as he had believed he did. Draco continued to surprise him. 

~~~

Once the priest had delivered what Harry’s program referred to as the benediction, the organist began to play again as the congregation filed out of the sanctuary. Harry realised that he needed to make a choice—he could try to get out of the church without Draco noticing and pretend he hadn’t stalked his private Christmas Eve plans, or he could prepare himself to confess when Draco eventually noticed him sitting right by the exit. Given the press of bodies making their way out of the doorway next to him, he briefly entertained the idea of crouching down and crawling under the pews instead, but at that moment Draco turned around in the midst of putting on his coat and made eye contact with Harry. 

They both froze. Harry’s heart sank; it’s not like he had realistically expected Draco to be happy at his intrusion, but he still felt guilty. He should have just refused to accept a program from the greeter when he originally walked into the church; scratch that, he shouldn’t have come into the church in the first place. This had all been a big mistake. It would have been less weird to loiter outside Draco’s home. 

It was Draco who broke eye contact first and resumed putting on his coat, and Harry let out a breath. Draco had a direct and penetrating gaze; they had deployed it to good use when questioning suspects in the past, but Harry had never truly been the subject of it before. He fiddled with his program while he waited for the crowd next to him to thin out, scanning the words in it without really taking in anything. 

A few moments later, a hand appeared in his field of view, steadying the owner against the pew in front of Harry. 

“Potter,” Draco said, and Harry forced himself to meet his partner’s gaze. “What an unexpected surprise.” 

Harry decided to lead with the least incriminating fact. “You left your—” he began, then looked around quickly. He didn’t _really_ want to break the statute of secrecy. “You left your, er, special stick in the office, and I was worried you wouldn’t be able to get into your flat and might think you’d lost it.” He patted his coat pocket and raised his eyebrows meaningfully. 

“Oh, Potter,” Draco said, sounding delighted. “That was… thoughtful of you. To bring my ‘special stick’ all this way.” He appeared to be on the verge of laughter, and Harry felt his face reddening. 

“Listen, it’s kind of difficult to explain everything in these surroundings if you catch my meaning,” Harry said defensively. 

“In that case, shall we?” Draco asked, motioning with his head towards the exit. The crowd had thinned out; there were still some congregation members milling about and exchanging Christmas greetings, but there was now a clear path out of the church. 

Surprised but pleased, Harry stood quickly and fumbled to put his coat on. They walked through the entry hall of the church, where the grey-haired greeter waved at Draco in a familiar way. Draco pushed the heavy wooden door open and called “Happy Christmas Rosie!” as they stepped outside into the brisk night air. 

Having no idea where they were going, Harry allowed Draco to lead. They walked in companionable silence down the street, past the alley where Harry had first arrived, before Harry felt compelled to say _something_. “I didn’t follow you or anything,” he said nervously. “Not like, properly. I made use of our bonded locator spell even though technically I’m not supposed to do that except in emergencies.” Harry realised he had crossed his arms, which according to Auror interrogation training indicated that the subject felt defensive, so he consciously willed himself into a less closed-off posture, allowing his arms to dangle by his sides instead. He regretted it almost instantly; his whole body suddenly felt awkward, and he was far too conscious of how his limbs were positioned. 

“Harry Potter decided that the rules don’t apply to him,” Draco said, smirking. “Imagine that.” 

“See if I ever try to help you again,” Harry muttered, but he couldn’t help smiling when Draco laughed openly. 

“I do appreciate the thought, Potter,” Draco said. “I actually intended to leave my wand behind, however. I’m not sure why, but it feels strange to me to have it in there.” 

“Oh,” Harry said, surprised. “Come here often, then?” 

Draco snorted. “Never one to leave a personal matter alone, are you?” he asked pointedly. 

“You’re right,” Harry said, feeling his face heat. “I’m sorry. You don’t actually need to tell me anything about it.” 

“No, Potter,” Draco said. “I’m going to tell you all about it; only then will you learn the error of your ways. You can ask whatever you’d like.” 

“Oh,” Harry said again. “Ok?” He thought for a moment and led with the obvious question that he was most curious about. “So you’re, you know, religious?” 

“I don’t know,” Draco pensively. He let out a breath slowly while he appeared to consider his answer. “I started attending two years ago. At the time I was feeling… alone, I suppose. I found the holiday season difficult that year. The idea that there’s some kind of… order to everything that happens, an overall plan, and ultimately, the possibility of forgiveness… well, it’s a comforting idea to me.” He hesitated again before continuing. “Not that I think that idea negates any sense of personal responsibility or accountability. I believe those are of utmost importance, too. It feels very contradictory at times.” 

Harry nodded slowly as they continued to walk down the street. He could understand the reassurance that that could provide, given what Draco had lived through and the way he reacted to the chaos that Harry regularly embraced. “Yeah, I can see why that would be helpful,” he finally said. “Even if it doesn’t really make sense right now. I’m sure you’ll figure it out, though.” He smiled over at Draco in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. 

Draco snorted. “Yes, I am sure to succeed where many of the best theologians are unable to agree. I admire your confidence in me, Potter.” 

“You’re good at thinking things through,” Harry said, refusing to back down. “I appreciate that about you. I’m much more likely to jump right into something if I don’t really understand it.” 

"Yes, well, that’s hardly a surprise,” Draco said drily, but as they passed under a streetlight, Harry noticed that the tips of his ears appeared pink. Harry smiled to himself, feeling pleased. 

“Listen,” Harry said, pausing as they passed another alley entrance. “I should be getting home. Might as well apparate from here, but first…” He pulled Draco’s wand out of his coat pocket and held it out in front of him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” 

Draco took his wand from Harry’s hand, and Harry felt the most minute brush of their fingers as he did so. Butterflies erupted in Harry’s stomach, and he shoved his hand back into his coat pocket immediately. He swore he could still feel the touch, however. 

“Let’s make it a slightly later morning tomorrow, shall we?” Draco suggested, rousing Harry from his thoughts. “A Christmas treat. How about half nine?” 

“I’ll take whatever I can get,” Harry said, and Draco laughed. 

“I do appreciate your saviour tendencies tonight, Potter,” he said. “Thank you for bringing me this.” He tucked his wand into his pocket and gave Harry a small smile. 

“Right,” Harry said, suddenly feeling awkward. “Well. Have a good night, then.” Face warm, he gave a little wave over his shoulder as he made his way into the alley without waiting for a response. 


	3. Chapter 3

Draco’s offer of starting an hour later from the night before no longer felt as generous when Harry dragged himself to the office at half nine in the morning. He hadn’t made any effort to decorate Grimmauld Place in a festive way; it didn’t seem worthwhile when the celebrations always took place at The Burrow every year. He regretted that choice as he woke up on Christmas morning knowing that he had yet another full day at the office ahead of him. In any other year, he would be gathering up his presents and Flooing over to the Weasleys in time for a riotous breakfast with all his friends and family. Instead, he found himself scarfing down a quick toast and tea in his kitchen before heading into headquarters as if it were any other day. Harry found himself grumbling as he took the lift to the Auror floor of the MLE building; he did not look forward to continuing to push through stacks of papers today. 

He was shocked out of his grumblings when he opened the office door. While he’d argue that he had spruced up the bare aesthetic of the space the previous day with his conjured additions, he had expected those to fade overnight. What he was confronted by was a whole other level of Christmas spirit—in the corner behind his desk stood a large Christmas tree whose tip just missed the ceiling, wrapped in tinsel and covered in twinkling lights. There were large decorative snowflakes hung all over his desk, and a large pine wreath with a wide, red bow adorned the back of his chair. Draco sat at his desk, for all intents and purposes working steadily on translating another piece of excellent yet inscrutable penmanship, but Harry could see him carefully watching for a reaction. 

“Did you do this?” Harry asked. He could feel himself smiling as he looked about the gaily-decorated room. 

“I may have come in a little early and spruced things up a bit,” Draco said, sounding pleased. 

Harry laughed. “Did you charm the windows to show snow falling outside? I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a blizzard when I was just out there.” 

“Yes, well, I felt bad that I got to have my Christmas tradition last night, but you’re stuck here with me and don’t get yours. So. Happy Christmas.” Draco flashed him an apologetic smile, then turned back to his work. 

Harry walked to his desk and sat down, his mood buoyed. He glanced at the top few sheets of parchment awaiting him before dismissing them; he didn’t feel like studying the summer intern’s transcriptions of arrest statements at the moment. Below those were a deep stack of annotations about Pensieve recordings which looked more interesting. 

“I’m going to start redoing the memory records, all right?” he asked, opening a desk drawer and retrieving the standard issue Pensieve inside of it. 

Draco murmured something that sounded like assent, so Harry began the laborious process of isolating memory fragments that might be important to the trial. He wrote a request to the archives for all memories associated with the case file, charmed the parchment into a bird-like shape and sent it fluttering off down the hallway. He watched it go, his spirits lifted by the way it traversed the air currents, flitting from doorway to doorway until he couldn’t see it any longer. Perhaps the day wouldn’t be so bad, he thought as he reached for the first file. 

~~~

Harry was in the middle of watching a memory of the stakeout that finally led to the capture of the Diagon Alley thief when he felt a hand shake his shoulder. He seized the opportunity to return to the world outside the pensieve, and brought his face out of the swirling liquid to find Draco holding on to him. 

“You have a visitor,” Draco said. He stepped aside to reveal Ron, who was looking approvingly at the office decorations. 

“You really went all out, mate,” Ron said. “You wouldn’t know any of this is here from the outside.” 

“Oh,” Harry said, rubbing his eyes as he adjusted to the solidity and brightness of the non-memory world. “Yeah, this was all Draco. It makes today kind of bearable.” 

“Nice one, Malfoy,” Ron said. Having returned to his desk and taken up his paperwork again, Draco only hummed noncommittally. “Listen, Harry, I know you’ve got all this work to prepare for the trial, but Mum keeps fretting over you. Do you think you could just pop by for a quick visit or something? She keeps looking over at your presents and sighing, and saying things like ‘I hope that poor boy is alright,’ and it’s a bit much to take, honestly. It’s bringing the whole mood down.” 

Harry looked guiltily at the stack of papers that remained on his desk. Truthfully, there was nothing he’d like to do more than skive off, but at the rate he and Malfoy were going they were going to be in it for the long haul. He really wanted to be done with work before New Year’s Eve so he could actually have a few days off. 

“You should go, Potter,” Malfoy said abruptly. “I’m sure I’ll be fine without you.” 

Harry looked over at him, feeling conflicted. “You’re just going to stay here and keep working?” he asked. 

Draco merely raised an eyebrow at Harry, before returning to studying the parchment in front of him. 

Harry turned back to Ron. “Sorry, mate,” he said apologetically. “You know I’d love to, but I can’t bring myself to leave Draco here. It’s too depressing to work here alone over Christmas.” 

“Bring Malfoy along, then,” Ron suggested breezily. “Have some tea and cakes, coo over your new jumper from Mum. It’ll be fine.” 

Harry blinked at him, then looked over at Malfoy again. His partner was still pretending to be focused on the paperwork, but his quill had stopped moving, and he appeared to be listening intently. “You, uh, think that’s a good idea?” Harry finally asked Ron hesitantly. 

“Sure,” Ron said. “I think most of us have bumped into him at some point in the past few years, and you talk about him all the time anyways—” 

“I do not,” Harry objected, feeling his face heat. Draco made a sound that could have been a snort. 

“And anyways, Pansy Parkinson’s there, so they can, you know, have some Slytherin time or something—” 

“Why is Pansy there?” Harry asked, taken aback. 

“Turns out she’s Ginny’s anonymous girlfriend,” Ron said with a shrug. 

“That bint!” Draco said, apparently shocked into acknowledging that he was listening to the conversation. “Pansy, not your sister, obviously,” he continued. “She never said a thing about it to me.” 

“See?” Ron said. “Malfoy can berate Pansy, and you can say hi to Mum; it’ll be great.” 

Harry met Draco’s gaze, and he was pretty sure his feelings were written all over his face. His earlier hesitation about the awkwardness between Ginny and him was gone; he desperately wanted to see the people he loved, just for a little bit. He longed to forget about Pensieves and stolen property and the Diagon Alley BIA for a little while, and instead envelop himself in the comfort of his family. 

“I think we can afford a short break,” Draco said, and Harry felt a big smile break out on his face. “Shall we?” 

~~~

It was mid-afternoon when they arrived at The Burrow. The traditional Christmas Day Quidditch game was underway—as they marched up the path to the front door, they could see the players zooming and dodging through the sky above the back meadow, their whoops and laughter carrying through the crisp winter air. 

“Guess who I brought back with me!” Ron called as he pushed open the front door and they all stepped inside. 

Molly’s head appeared around the doorway to the kitchen. “Harry!” she cried. “I was so worried about you!” She bustled out, wiping her hands on her apron before giving him a big hug. 

“Happy Christmas, Molly,” Harry said fondly as he allowed himself to be squeezed tightly. “I brought Draco too. I hope that’s all right. We can’t stay too long, but I couldn’t let him keep working while I got to see all of you.” 

Molly finally released him and beamed at Draco. “Well, it’s nice to see that Harry’s happy and he’s being looked after. Happy Christmas to both of you.” Draco blinked, unused to Molly’s way with hangers-on at Weasley affairs, but Harry just laughed indulgently. 

“Don’t worry, Draco makes sure that I don’t miss meals,” he said with a smile. 

Molly patted his cheek. “As he should,” she said mock sternly. “You’re still a growing boy.” 

“Something smells good, Mum,” Ron said, as he sidled towards the kitchen. “I’ll just check on what’s in the oven, make sure it’s not burning.” 

“Ronald!” Molly said, turning her attention away from Harry and Draco in order to point an accusatory finger. “Don’t you dare touch anything! I’ve counted, so I’ll notice if any go missing!” 

“Come on,” Harry whispered to Draco, who looked slightly alarmed. “Let’s find the others.” 

They ambled out of the entryway and into the living room, where they found Bill and Fleur chatting with Arthur. 

“Harry!” Arthur exclaimed, breaking off in the middle of their conversation. “Didn’t think we’d be seeing you today.” He stood up from his chair to shake Harry’s hand and genially clap him on the back. 

“Couldn’t stand to disappoint Mrs Weasley,” Harry said. “Hey, Bill. Fleur.” 

“And who’s this, ‘Arry?” Fleur asked. “Your partner?” 

“Er, yeah,” Harry said, remembering his manners. “Fleur, this is Draco. Draco, Fleur. You might remember her from our fourth year.” 

“Never expected to see a Malfoy under our roof,” Bill said. “What a strange world.” 

“Now, Bill,” Arthur chided gently. “You’re welcome here, Draco. Glad you and Harry could make it.” 

“Thank you,” Draco said, performing a stiff but respectful bow with his head. “It is gracious of you to include me.” 

“Not at all, not at all,” Arthur said expansively. “Harry, Teddy will be excited that you’re here. He’s off watching the Quidditch with Andromeda; you should go and say hello.” 

“Will do,” Harry promised. Turning to Draco, he asked, “Shall we?” The words died on his lips as he saw the unnerved expression on Draco’s face. 

“My aunt is here?” he asked. 

“Er, yeah,” Harry said. “We like to include her and Teddy. Is that an issue?” 

Draco’s eyes darted around the room, but he visibly steeled himself. “No, of course not,” he said. “Just… unexpected. You should lead the way.” 

Harry had worked with Draco long enough to recognise when he was masking his discomfort in the presence of others. He affected a breezy wave to the others in the room. “See you later! We’re going to go watch some Quidditch.” 

He led Draco back out of the living room to the door that opened into the back garden, but he paused when they were outside the house and hidden by the garden fence. “What’s wrong?” he asked. 

Draco fiddled with the sleeve of his coat. “I’ve never met my aunt. My parents never spoke of her when I was growing up, and I thought about contacting her after… you know. Everything.” He exhaled, sending a puff of breath out into the cold air. “It seemed too presumptuous. She cut off all ties with my family; I figured that if she wanted to reconnect, it would have to be her choice.” 

Harry’s stomach did something funny. He remembered how it felt to discover Sirius’ connection to his family, and when Sirius had asked if Harry wanted to live with him… He wanted Draco to have the same opportunity that he had.“What do you want to do?” Harry asked gently. “I’m pretty sure she’ll give you a chance." 

Draco smoothed his hair absentmindedly, seemingly lost in thought. “I think I would like to meet her, even if only so I can stop wondering.” 

“How good are you at talking to 5 year olds?” Harry asked as they started walking towards where the game was taking place. 

Draco looked askance. “Inexperienced.” 

“That’s fine,” Harry reassured him. “Teddy loves talking about Quidditch if you get him going, and if you run out of ideas, you can just ask him to show you his training broom.” 

As they drew near the makeshift pitch, Harry saw the rest of the regular Christmas crowd. They were evenly split: some were flitting about in the air, trading playful insults and passing the quaffle lackadaisically, while the rest were standing around chatting and occasionally calling out suggestions to the players. He spotted Andromeda standing with Hermione, both of them ignoring the game completely as they talked, while Teddy stood next to them with a huge smile on his face as he tracked the players that flew overhead. 

“Happy Christmas Teddy!” Harry called, and when the young boy turned around and spotted him, he ran towards them, abandoning his study of the game. 

“Uncle Harry!” Teddy cried, launching himself at Harry’s legs. Harry grabbed him under the armpits and swung him into the air, startling a shriek out of the young boy. 

“Up! Up!” he cried through his laughter. 

“Put you _upside_ _down_?” Harry asked. “If you insist!” He turned the small boy over until his head was dangling just about the ground while Harry kept a firm grip on his ankles. 

“Down!” Teddy said, laughing even harder. “Down!” 

“On your head?” Harry asked, pretending to be perplexed. “You’re very strange, Teddy.” 

Teddy was now laughing too hard to reply, so Harry gently lowered him to the ground head-first, then laid the rest of his body down after. Teddy immediately rolled over and pushed himself to his feet once more. He turned his attention to Draco for the first time, who had held himself back during this whole encounter, and immediately grabbed on to Harry’s trouser leg and gave him a beseeching look. 

“Teddy, this is Draco,” Harry said to the suddenly shy boy. “He’s an Auror like me. He’s actually my partner. He’s also your, um…” Harry paused for a moment as he tried to work out the branches of the Black family tree that separated Draco and Teddy. 

The moment stretched out for too long. “My what?” Teddy asked, impatience beginning to overwhelm his caution around strangers. 

“I think cousin will do,” Draco said smoothly, and he smirked at Harry as if he could tell that he was trying to remember the difference between a second-cousin and a first cousin twice-removed. 

“You’re my cousin?” Teddy asked, wariness battling with intrigue at the notion. 

“Yes, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Draco said. He held out his hand; after a moment, Teddy reached out and shook it, at first mirroring Draco’s solemn attitude but quickly getting excited about pumping their hands up and down repeatedly. Once Draco was able to disengage, he knelt down to Teddy’s level, who by this point had come out from behind Harry’s legs. 

“I hear you have a racing broom,” Draco said. “Would you show it to me?” 

Harry smiled as Teddy’s face lit up. “Let me go get it!” Teddy said excitedly, and he ran back towards the house, his small legs pumping madly. 

Andromeda and Hermione had interrupted their conversation to watch them, and they now made their way towards Harry and Draco. 

“Happy Christmas, Harry!” Hermione said with a smile. “I'm so glad you could make it.” 

“Nice to see you,” Harry said. He felt tension leaving him that he hadn’t realised he was carrying; he missed spending time with his closest friends. “Happy Christmas Andromeda!” Turning to Draco, he said: “Hermione and I will just be over there, ok?” He immediately pulled a surprised Hermione away with him, and he saw Draco give him a slightly panicky nod in response. Andromeda didn’t even acknowledge Harry’s greeting; she was busy looking Draco over, who firmed up his back and returned her gaze resolutely. 

“What was all that about?” Hermione asked as Harry continued to pull her further along the quidditch pitch. “And why’s Malfoy here?” 

“I didn’t want to leave him behind while I skived off here,” Harry said. “And Ron said that Pansy’s here, so he wouldn’t be, you know, completely stranded. And then we realised that he's never met Andromeda or Teddy…” 

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed, bringing a hand to her mouth. She looked back over her shoulder, and Harry joined her just in time to see Draco say something quietly to Andromeda and give a little formal nod of his head. “Well, it will be good for Teddy to have another relative to look up to, won’t it?” she asked reflectively. “If Malfoy wants that, of course. It wouldn’t be any good to force it.” 

“I think Draco might actually like it,” Harry said, thinking back to their earlier conversation. “His choice, of course. But I think he’s really interested in getting to know Andromeda, too, based on what he told me. He keeps surprising me.” 

Hermione eyed him curiously. “In what ways?” she asked. 

Harry paused. Their conversation after the church service was top of his mind, but that really wasn’t something he felt he could share, given Draco’s secrecy around it. “Oh, nothing specific,” he said, trying to deflect. “Just bits here and there. You know how it is. There’s just more there than I think I ever realised.” 

Hermione pursed her lips consideringly but chose not to press the point. “If you say so,” she said. “Come on, the others will be mad if I monopolise you and you’re only here for a little while." 

~~~

Harry progressively made the rounds of his chosen family. Percy wished him a productive new year with many opportunities for advancement. George swooped down on a broom to high five him and ask if he was up for some gnome racing later, and Charlie and his boyfriend tried to convince Harry to take a vacation and come visit the Romanian dragon sanctuary they both worked at. Harry spotted Pansy a few times, usually sticking close to Ginny, but by the time he reached them, Pansy had gone back into the house to refill her drink. 

“So, you and Pansy then?” Harry found himself saying to Ginny. She was standing on the pitch sidelines yelling suggestions at the players in the air; he had joined her and they watched the sky, side by side. 

He hadn’t actually seen her since they had decided to go their separate ways. It had been awkward, but it hadn’t hurt like he feared it might. It had felt more like a relief, really. Ginny was the one who brought up the idea of splitting up; they’d actually barely seen each other in the previous year between Harry’s training and Ginny getting signed by a minor league Quidditch team. They each had their own place to live and their own lives, more or less, and when Ginny asked him point-blank “Is this what you actually want?”, Harry had to admit that it felt like he was settling for what was easy. 

“Me and Pansy,” Ginny replied amiably. “I figured it was time to give her the full family experience. She’s holding up remarkably well so far.” 

“Why’d you keep it a big secret for so long?” Harry asked. 

“Dunno. I wanted to see if it would work out. I just wanted something that was all mine for a bit, you know?” 

“When you put it like that, I guess I do,” Harry admitted ruefully. “And she’s… treating you well? You’re happy?” He wasn’t actually sure where he was going with his line of questioning. Maybe he just wanted to see if Ginny had any regrets. 

Beside him, Ginny snorted. “Merlin, you sound like Dad. And yes, Pansy is honestly a delight when you get to know her.” 

“Oh,” Harry said. “I’m glad to hear that.” He didn’t really know what to say next. After a moment, he felt Ginny’s shoulder knock against his and he looked over at her. 

“We’re cool, right?” she asked, sounding uncertain. “This doesn’t need to be weird. We can still be friends.” 

Harry let out a breath. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I’d like that.” 

“Good,” Ginny declared, as if that settled the matter. “Now, spill the details on Malfoy. I’m not the only one keeping secrets, clearly.” She grinned at him wolfishly. 

“ _What_?” Harry asked, looking guiltily over his shoulder to make sure Draco wasn’t standing there. “We’re not together. That’s not what everyone thinks, is it? Oh, god.” Had he accidentally brought Draco to the Burrow under false pretenses? 

Ginny looked surprised for the first time. “Oh,” she said. “Well, before he left Ron was saying things about you and Malfoy spending quality time together today, and I remember what you were like about him in the past, and then you showed up here together… I guess I just assumed you and he were—” 

“We’re _not_ ,” Harry interrupted, his checks aflame. “Not that I’d… I mean he’s… we’re just partners. Auror partners. I’m pretty sure there are rules against that.” He attempted a laugh, but it felt forced. 

Ginny raised her eyebrows. “Lord,” she said. “You’re not dating him, but you clearly want to. This is so much worse than I feared.” 

Harry checked over his shoulder again, feeling paranoid. “You can’t just say things like that out loud!” he hissed. “It’s fine. It’s just a, you know. It’ll pass. I’m fine. We’re professional.” 

Ginny crossed her arms. “I think this is the first time I’ve ever heard you appeal to professionalism,” she said. 

“I can be professional!” Harry objected. “Sometimes rules are there for good reasons!” 

“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself,” Ginny said, smirking. 

“Maybe I don’t want to ruin a good thing!” Harry said hotly. “We work well together!” 

Ginny shrugged. “If you say so,” she said. “If it counts for anything, my advice is just to bone it out and get it over with. It’s easier in the long run.” 

“God,” Harry said, suddenly miserable. “If only.” He suddenly realized what he had just admitted and felt his cheeks heat. “Please don’t tell anyone about—” 

“Relax,” Ginny interrupted firmly. “Your secret is safe with me.” She waggled her mug at him. “I’m going to get a refill. You want some?” 

It was tempting to start drinking and try to forget everything he’d just allowed to spill out. “I need to go back to the office later and get some more work done,” Harry said remorsefully. “I should probably keep a clear head.” 

“Suit yourself!” Ginny said. “Hey, chin up. These things have a way of resolving themselves, one way or another.” She jostled their shoulders together again, then wandered off in the direction of the house without waiting for a reply. 

Harry couldn’t figure out how he ended up on the receiving end of relationship advice from his ex-long-term girlfriend, but to his horror, her suggestion was now firmly implanted in his head; the desks at the office were the perfect height for those sorts of tension-relieving activities. His desk wouldn’t work, obviously, due to the piles of papers on it, but Draco’s had lots of available space on it. And the ministry was empty over the holiday… 

Harry shook himself. For all his talk about professionalism, it clearly didn’t take much to push him past the boundary in his head. He had to focus. Ginny had made assumptions, but she was wrong. He and Draco were a very effective Auror team, and it would be foolish to jeopardise that. Beyond foolish. 

“Well,” Draco said from behind him. “I don’t know about you, but this has been a most unexpected afternoon.” 

Harry jumped and tried to think about anything except boning. It proved surprisingly difficult, and he silently cursed Ginny’s power of suggestion. “Oh!” he exclaimed nervously. “How long have you been standing there?” 

“My aunt decided Teddy looked cold and took him inside, so I thought I’d come find you,” Draco said, which didn’t answer the question _at all_. “And I found Pansy along the way and had a chance to make my displeasure with her clear. Have you successfully reassured your family that I’m not holding you hostage at the Ministry?” 

The image that conjured in Harry’s head was far, far more unprofessional than the previous ones he had been concerned about, and Harry swallowed. “Er,” he said, attempting to get a grip on himself. “Yeah, I’d reckon. Should we be getting back, then?” 

“I didn’t want to rush you,” Draco said. “But I’d feel better if we were leaving soon. There are still so many Pensieve records to go through.” 

“All right,” Harry said. He was vaguely relieved that he wouldn’t have to negotiate any more misunderstandings about his and Draco’s relationship today. “We can slip away, in that case.” 

“Shall we?” Draco asked, taking Harry’s arm in his hand. Suddenly unable to make a sound, Harry settled for a brisk nod when Draco gave him a quizzical look, and he felt the lurch of a side-along Apparition as everything went dark. 


	4. Chapter 4

Harry spent the next few hours at his desk, attempting to be productive. It wasn’t that he was _unproductive_ , exactly, but he did find himself getting distracted more easily than usual. Draco’s decorations still lent the office a comfortably festive atmosphere, and Harry found his gaze drawn inextricably to his partner. His work colleague, he amended, feeling put out. He would catch himself thinking about the feel of Draco’s hand on his arm, or the precise way that Draco nibbled the biscuits he took with his tea. Late in the afternoon, Draco left a mug of tea on Harry's desk. Harry was focusing so intently that he startled when Draco gently placed a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. Harry jumped, banging both of his knees on the underside of the desk at the touch. Draco only gave him an apologetic look and pointed towards the mug of steaming tea. 

“Thanks,” Harry said wryly as he nursed his bruised kneecaps. 

“Everything all right over here?” Draco asked. 

“Oh yeah,” Harry said. “Brilliant. Really getting into the flow, you know?” 

“Mmm,” Draco said. “Listen, do you want to take a break? We should talk about something.” 

Harry’s heart immediately began to hammer. Had Draco noticed his unprofessional glances? Was this going to be one of those conversations where he would try to let Harry down gently? Was he making Draco uncomfortable? Or… maybe Draco had noticed the glances, and this would be one of those conversations where they sorted out how they felt about each other and what it meant? 

“Oh?” Harry asked, attempting to sound casual. “Sure. What do you want to talk about?” 

Uncharacteristically, Draco seemed hesitant. “It’s about us,” he finally said, and Harry suddenly found it hard to breathe, as if all the oxygen were being sucked out of the room. 

“Oh?” Harry asked again and wanted to kick himself. “What about… us?” 

“There is something I need to share that has been weighing on me,” Draco said. Harry decided that his soul was going to separate from his body if this dragged on any longer. “I meant to tell you sooner, before the winter holidays, actually, but then there was this case, and I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable—” 

“Draco,” Harry interrupted, “the suspense is making me one hundred times more uncomfortable right now, I promise.” 

Draco chuckled drily. “You’re right,” he said. He took a deep breath, then: “This is my last case that we’ll work on together. I’m leaving the Aurors.” 

Harry sat there, stunned. “You’re— you’re leaving?” he asked. That possibility had never even crossed his mind. This conversation was not going the way he had hoped, or even feared. It was inconceivable. 

Draco nodded. “I’ve been accepted into the Unspeakables, and I start first thing in the new year.” 

“But we work so well together!” Harry blurted. “It just feels right, you know? We complement each other.” 

“I’ve always seen the Aurors as a stepping stone,” Draco said gently. “A foot in the Ministry door, as it were. I’m sorry, Harry. If it’s any consolation, partnering with you has been… much better than I feared.” 

Harry snorted. “Mmm, that’s a compliment I’ll treasure,” he said drily. “Real high praise from Draco Malfoy.” 

Draco crossed his arms defensively. “I almost turned down the Unspeakables invitation,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want to let you down.” 

“Oh,” Harry said. “Well.” He cleared his throat. “Obviously, you should do whatever makes you happiest. I’ll be fine.” Impulsively, he stuck out his hand. “It’s been much better than I feared as well. I’d even go so far as to say it has been a pleasure.” 

"I’m not going anywhere until we’re done with this ridiculous paperwork,” Draco scoffed, but Harry was pretty sure he could see the tips of his ears turning pink. “Let’s not make this unseemly.” Still, he reached out and shook Harry’s hand. 

~~~

“Let’s toast,” Harry announced, several hours later. He had lost the ability to concentrate a good half hour earlier, and in a rash attempt to regain it, he had decided to organise his desk drawer. He had actually uncovered a book on the history of magical creature relations that Hermione had loaned him, and he’d forgotten about entirely, a golden snitch that occasionally made half-hearted attempts to fly away, and a bottle of Ogden’s Finest ‘51 which he’d received for Christmas the previous year. 

Draco leaned back in his chair, stretching out his back muscles, and looked over at Harry. “I see nothing to toast here,” he said testily. “Merely a slow death by papercuts.” 

“We should toast your new prospects,” Harry insisted. “Besides, I’m about to go out of my skull if I have to read one more witness report praising the actions of Diagon Alley’s BIA.” 

Draco cracked a smile. “If you insist,” he said. “What are we toasting with?” Harry held up the unopened bottle of Ogden’s, and Draco whistled. “You have surprisingly decent taste. I was expecting some kind of alcohol that comes in a box; this is almost respectable of you.” 

Harry flipped two fingers at him good-naturedly. “Pass me that,” he said, motioning to the mug on Draco’s desk. 

Draco looked where Harry was pointing and sighed in exasperation. “Merlin, tell me we’re not going to drink a passable Firewhiskey out of mugs, and dirty ones at that. I should have known better.” 

“I know what I’m going to do,” Harry said, unconcerned. “You can make your own choices.” He opened the bottle and sniffed the contents, then poured a generous measure of the amber liquid into his mug as Draco watched. Without breaking eye contact, Harry took a small sip, then smacked his lips appreciatively as he swallowed, feeling the drink draw a warm line down the inside of his chest. “That’s quite nice,” he said. 

Draco rolled his eyes and performed a cleaning spell on his mug before he handed it over. “The ways I debase myself around you simply boggle the mind,” he said. 

Harry chuckled as he accepted the mug and poured another measure into it. He would definitely miss winding Draco up on a daily basis. “Here you go,” he said, handing it back once he was finished. 

Draco accepted it and proceeded to sniff the contents guardedly, as if afraid that the drinking vessel may have ruined it somehow. When the drink appeared to pass muster, he pulled his chair forward so he was within arm’s reach of Harry and sat back, waiting. “Well?” he asked. “I believe I heard something about a toast.” 

Harry smiled. “To new opportunities,” he said, lifting his mug. It was a sentiment that he truly meant, but it was also tinged with sadness. He really would miss Draco’s cantankerous, prickly presence every day in the office. 

Draco’s mug met his in the middle with a soft clink. They watched each other as they both took small drinks from their cups, and the moment suddenly felt charged. Draco wasn’t smiling any more as he brought his mug away from his mouth. 

“I’ve been meaning to thank you, Harry,” he said seriously. “I had something today that I wasn’t expecting—my aunt has invited me for tea with my cousin on New Year’s Day. I’m not sure if or when we might have reconnected if not for you insisting that I accompany you today.” 

“Oh!” Harry exclaimed. “That’s really great! I think you’ll like Andromeda.” 

“She seemed very reserved,” Draco said, before taking another pull from his mug. “I’m more worried about whether she’ll like me.” 

“Of course she’ll like you,” Harry said. “She’ll give you a chance.” 

“Not everyone does,” Draco said quietly into his cup. 

“Well _I_ like you,” Harry said boldly, then he quickly took a long drink before he could see how Draco received that. He ended up spluttering as too much firewhiskey hit his throat at once, but the subsequent coughing fit helpfully gave him more time to avoid looking at Draco. 

When he looked up again, Draco was looking into his own mug again. After a moment he raised his eyes to meet Harry’s, then thrust his mug forward and pronounced, “To family, old and new!” 

“Cheers to that,” Harry said gratefully, raising his cup. He couldn’t help feeling slightly disappointed, though—Draco hadn’t even acknowledged Harry’s words. At least he didn’t appear to have ruined anything with his spontaneous declaration of feelings; he had never been great at thinking before speaking. The last thing he wanted to do was make things awkward between them before Draco left him forever. 

~~~

When Harry arrived at the office on the day following Christmas, everything felt a bit off. He found that the day passed with aggravating slowness. The Christmas decorations had been removed; clearly, Draco was one of those people who believed that all Christmas spirits must be exorcised as soon as the holiday was officially past. Harry caught himself sneaking peeks at Draco throughout the morning, trying to memorise the mannerisms that would soon be gone from his life. 

Draco was tapping rhythmically on his desk with his free hand while he read an evidence report intently, occasionally making marks with a quill with his other hand. Harry found himself getting lost in the sound of Draco’s fingers; it felt like rain on an attic roof, with no discernible pattern but nonetheless soothing. He fondly noted the way Draco stilled for a moment when he found what he was looking for; then the tapping would accelerate when it resumed. 

Once in a while, something about Harry’s behaviour apparently caught Draco’s attention, and Harry had to quickly busy himself with his own paperwork lest Draco realise that Harry was mooning over him. He was pretty sure he avoided detection, but there were definitely some close calls. 

It was a quiet day; even lunch was subdued despite their new tradition of swapping portions. Harry came back from the outside world carrying Chinese takeaway, and Draco already had a sandwich half set aside for him without even putting up a token argument about the incompatible palates. He accepted a helping of Harry’s Mushu pork with a grateful nod of his head but otherwise acted distant towards him. 

Harry chewed his food morosely, trying to come up with reasons to break the silence that didn’t seem desperate or weird, but he couldn’t think of anything. It shouldn’t have to end like this, he thought. Like two strangers who happened to share an office and politely traded food. He wondered what had changed since the previous day, but found the prospect of asking far too daunting. Much better to simply get on with the work and try to lose himself in it for a while. 

~~~

“Well,” Draco said later that afternoon as he stood and stretched. “That’s it. I’ve finished redoing every single witness statement, and I’ve verified all the Pensieve timecodes for quick retrieval during the trial if necessary.” 

Harry sighed, glancing at his small stack of forensic reports that he still needed to finish. “Yeah, I think you’re better at this than I am,” he said. 

“Well, hand me some more, and we’ll see if I can finish those as well before you’re done,” Draco said, smirking. 

Harry waved him off. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “You’ve done your part. You’re free now; go enjoy an actual holiday for the next couple days.” 

A small frown appeared on Draco’s face. “Well, if you insist,” he said. “But I still need to clean out my desk, since I don’t plan on coming back.” He looked at Harry’s stack consideringly, then back at Harry. “Race you?” he asked slyly. 

Harry’s flagging spirits leapt, suddenly buoyed by the prospect. “You’re on,” he said with a grin. He turned back to the papers in front of him and found his place and resumed writing. He knew he had to take care; his handwriting deteriorated rapidly when he wrote too quickly, as Draco was wont to point out. 

The next twenty minutes passed in a blur as Harry found a rhythm. He had the cheat sheet that Draco had made for quickly decoding the intern’s shorthand, and he no longer allowed himself to get distracted by how pretty the lettering on the page was. He was able to make good progress on his stack of papers, but he knew he was in trouble when he looked up and saw Draco already emptying his second-to-last desk drawer. Draco was definitely going to finish first if they both kept up their current rate of progress. 

Taking matters into his own hands, when Draco wasn’t looking Harry cast a wordless levitation charm on the box that his partner was using to store his belongings. Harry quickly guided the box over to his own desk and hid it in the space where his legs would typically go. This forced him to sit further back from his desk than he usually would, but that was a small price to pay for victory. He resumed his paperwork, listening impatiently for Draco to notice the missing box. 

Harry had completed another sheet by the time he heard Draco emit a sound of surprise. He maintained his focus, rewriting yet another long-winded report concluding that no forensic traces of the thief had been found after one of the earliest burglaries. 

“Potter?” Draco asked after a moment. “Have you seen my box?” 

“Hmm?” Harry replied, looking over at Draco and affecting an air of surprise. “Your box?” 

“Yes, the box that was sitting right next to me a few minutes ago,” Draco said. He appeared confused. 

“Did you lose track of it?” Harry asked. “That’s a shame.” 

Draco’s eyes narrowed, then he reached out and grabbed his wand off of his desk. “ _Accio_ _Draco’s box_!” he said abruptly. 

The box in front of Harry’s feet attempted to fly through his legs, the weight of its contents, giving it enough mass to start pushing him and his chair out of the way. Harry grabbed on to the edges of his desk and attempted to keep himself in place. “Oh, how strange,” Harry said lightly. “I wonder how that got there!” 

“Box thief!” Draco scowled. “None of your trickery, now, Potter.” 

“We never established rules,” Harry retorted, and cast a _Protego_ down the middle of the space separating their desks, then followed that up with a _Finite_ on the box so it would stop trying to burst past his legs. 

“This is _just_ like you,” Draco said, but he was grinning ferociously. “Giving the appearance of caring about law and order and decency, right up until it benefits you to ignore them all.” 

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of me winning the race,” Harry said nonchalantly as he turned back to his paperwork. He knew his shield charms were strong; Draco would have to work to break through. That should give him at least a bit more time to try to close the gap between them. 

Harry tried very hard to ignore Draco’s pacing and muttered spells over the next few minutes as he frantically filled out forms. Every so often there would be a short, sharp sensation as Draco would attempt a new way of burrowing through his shield. Harry was glad they were in such a small room; it meant that the usual technique of simply bombarding a shield until it collapsed would risk damaging the rest of the office, a fact which worked in Harry’s favour. 

Harry was getting very close to the end of his paperwork when he suddenly felt his shield charm wink out of existence. He immediately turned and dodged an _Immobilius_ that Draco threw at him; he had apparently decided to follow Harry’s example and win at any cost. He frantically stood to cast an _Expelliarmus_ at Draco, but Draco simply blocked it as he swept towards Harry in a vision of righteous wrath, following it up with his own _Expelliarmus_ that sent Harry’s wand sailing into Draco’s free hand. 

“Now,” he said, as he stepped in front of Harry, crowding him back against his desk. “Return my box. Your underhanded theft has only delayed my inevitable victory.” 

Harry swallowed. Draco was looming over him, radiating control, and it was extremely distracting. “Make me,” he said recklessly. 

Draco’s gaze dipped, and Harry could swear Draco glanced towards his lips, which were suddenly dry. He licked them, then Draco’s eyes met his once more. There was something there, Harry found himself thinking. All of a sudden, Draco’s mouth was on his, and Draco cast aside the wands he was holding to grab a handful of Harry’s robes instead. 

Harry’s brain shut down as their lips met, and he returned the kiss insistently. Draco’s mouth opened slightly, and Harry pressed his advantage by running the tip of his tongue along Draco’s lower lip; he was rewarded by a breathy gasp. 

It was Draco who pulled back first, to Harry’s disappointment. He released Harry’s robes, and Harry avoided the risk of his knees collapsing under him by resting his weight against the desk behind him. They really were the perfect height for these kinds of activities. They were both silent for a moment, breathing a bit harder than usual as they gazed at each other. Harry wasn’t quite sure what his face was doing; it didn’t feel like he had full control over it yet. 

Harry couldn’t stand the quiet any longer. “So,” he began nervously. “If you were trying to get your box back just now, it doesn’t seem like that was very effective.” 

“Indeed,” Draco said, but he was smirking a tiny bit. “Perhaps I should try again.” 

Harry’s breath caught. “Only if you want to,” he said, feeling his pulse race. 

“Oh, Potter,” Draco said, and he had such a fond look on his face that Harry thought he might actually melt. “I have wanted this for… well, much longer than I should have, really.” 

“But we were working together, and it seemed like a bad idea, right?” Harry asked. 

“And there’s a regulation against it, yes,” Draco admitted, smiling. 

“We’re still technically partners,” Harry pointed out. “I haven’t finished my paperwork yet. That means you’re, how did you put it— ‘giving the appearance of respecting law and order, until it no longer benefits you to do so?’” He smiled widely. “Interesting, isn’t it?” 

“Harry,” Draco murmured, leaning toward him. “Please stop talking.” 

Harry felt lightheaded all of a sudden. “I just think that hypocrisy—” he began, but Draco interrupted him by kissing him firmly once more. 

When they finally resurfaced, Harry was breathing hard. “Ok, wow,” he said, and Draco chuckled. 

“As the victor of our race—” Draco began. 

“You haven’t won yet!” Harry objected. 

“Since you cheated so terribly and blatantly,” Draco amended, “I will allow you to take me out for dinner once we’re done here to make up for it.” 

“How generous of you,” Harry said, rolling his eyes, but he could feel himself grinning foolishly. “I suppose I have no other choice.” 

“You always have a choice, Harry,” Draco said, suddenly gazing at him seriously. “I wish to be very clear on this point.” 

Harry swallowed. “Then I choose you,” he said, reaching out to take hold of Draco’s hand and interweaving their fingers. “Now take your stupid box and stop distracting me from finishing this awful paperwork so we can go to dinner.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ⛄ This work is part of the H/D Mistletoe winter gift exchange. If you enjoyed it, spread the love by leaving the author a kudos and a comment, and consider reblogging the fest tumblr post [here](https://gwbexchange.tumblr.com/post/639778520550227968/good-will-towards-men-author-anonymous-for) ❄️


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